


Love Bites

by TheIttyBitty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Blood Drinking, M/M, Oral Sex, Vampire Dean Winchester, but not really graphic, i honestly don't know, modern vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 04:27:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2799548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIttyBitty/pseuds/TheIttyBitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Castiel is short on money, he turns to the AVS, the American Vampire Society, where he can make money by donating his blood. Then he finds that he can make even more by letting vampires suck it straight from the source: his neck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Bites

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what i'm doing anymore.
> 
> Anyway, in this verse vampires are widely knows about, they're civilized, they generally don't kill people.
> 
> If you spot any mistakes, let me know.

Castiel stares down at the mail in his hand. Bills. Bills bills bills. Phone bill, gas bill, electric bill, and the rent on the apartment is due this week. Thank fuck he at least doesn’t have to pay for water. It's still too much though, and he doesn’t have the money. His job at the bookstore on Willow Street just isn’t cutting it. He sighs and throws the mail down on his rickety kitchen table, and picks up the pamphlet for the AVS. The American Vampire Society, a surprisingly decent group, given their members. But then, Castiel tries not to be prejudiced. Most of the vampires he's met are good, decent people.  
  
What's more, the AVS pays for blood. Castiel has been selling his for a few months now to make ends meet. He goes in, signs some papers, and they drain about a pint of his blood into a little bag that then gets put into a big refrigerator in the back of the facility. He needs more money than they pay this month though, and he finds himself flipping to the back of the pamphlet where there's an ad for what's called Personal Blood Donation, which pays quite a bit more. There's a reason he hasn’t done it yet though. When they say “Personal”, they mean personal. With the Personal Blood Donation program you go to a vampire's _house_ and let them drink _straight from you_ , because apparently it's much tastier fresh from the source. Everything is very legit, everybody signs papers and if you feel unsafe at any point you can back out, but Castiel has still been hesitant to try it. At the moment, though, he needs the money bad.

  
He picks up his cell and dials the number from the pamphlet.

  
“Hello,” He says when a woman picks up the other end. “I'd like to sign up for the Personal Blood Donation Program.”  
  
Castiel stands outside a large, open house on the nice side of town, far from his own. The sun is dipping low on the horizon. He has on his nicest jeans and a button down. He's not sure what the etiquette is here, what he should do or say or wear. The woman at the AVS had just told him to show up, nothing more.

  
Castiel takes a deep breath, raises his hand to the door, and knocks. It's just a few moments before the door is swung inward.

  
The man who opens the door is breathtakingly handsome. He has dark blond hair, striking green eyes, hundreds of freckles spotting his nose and cheeks. Beneath a dark green Henley, Castiel can see the man's muscles ripple as he moves. The man smiles and the corners of his eyes wrinkle.

  
“You must be Castiel.” He says, holding out his hand.

  
“Um, yes.” Castiel replies. He shakes the man's hand, it's firm and soft.

  
“Well I'm Dean, Winchester. You can come on in.” He takes a step backward and holds the door open for Castiel, who steps inside nervously.

  
Dean's house isn’t at all like he expected. It's big and open, decorated with light colors and vibrant paintings.

  
“You have a beautiful home.” Castiel tells him.

  
“Did it myself.” Dean says. “And yes, flattery will get you everywhere.”

  
“In that case, I really love the color schemes” Castiel says as they come into the living room.

  
Dean grins at him. “You want something to drink?” He wonders.

  
“No, I’m alright.” Says Castiel.

  
“Okay, well you can sit down if you'd like, I’m going to get myself a Coke.” He exits the room, leaving Castiel by himself.

  
Castiel settles himself on the couch, a big tan thing across from what might be the biggest flat screen tv he's ever seen. His nerves are finally starting to calm due to the niceness of the house, and Dean welcoming demeanor. By the time Dean comes back in with a can of Coke, Castiel is feeling pretty good.

  
Dean sits down next to him, setting his drink on the coffee table. “So, you want to get right to it or would you rather work up to it?”

  
“Just do it, I think.”

  
Dean nods. “You have any preferences as to where I bite you?”

  
Castiel swallows nervously, shakes his head. “I've never done this before.”

  
“Well,” Dean says soothingly. “I can do it on the neck, arm, or thigh. Neck is my favorite, personally, but whatever you're most comfortable with is fine.”

  
“Well, ah, lets try neck then.”

  
“Okay then! You ready, cowboy?” Dean asks, grinning.

  
Castiel nods once and leans back, exposing his throat.

  
Dean's eyes flick down to the newly exposed skin. He licks his lips. “If you want me to stop, just tell me.” He says, low and deep.

  
He leans forward and brushes Castiel's collar out of the way with his thumb. He's closer, closer, until his lips are brushing Castiel's neck. Castiel's heart is racing by the time Dean opens his mouth and bites down. It doesn’t hurt as much as Castiel thought it would, just a pinch really. The first drink though, feels odd, like a pulling. He can feel it in his belly button.

  
Seconds later, though, Dean is pulling off. His face is scrunched up. He grabs blindly at the table until he finds an empty glass, which he promptly spits Castiel's blood into. Castiel watches, open mouthed.

  
“Ugh, ew.” Dean says. “What's wrong with your blood? It tastes all wrong.”

  
Castiel's heart drops. He's failed even at this. There's something wrong with his blood and now he's not going to get paid and he won't be able to pay his bills.

  
“I'm so sorry!” He says urgently. “I didn’t know there was anything wrong with it, I’m so so sorry!”

  
“Hey, whoa, it's alright.” Dean says, wiping the blood from his mouth with a wash rag from the coffee table. “No big deal.” He smacks his lips, the expression on his face is of someone eating something sour. “Are you anemic? Tastes like maybe... iron deficiency?”

  
“Oh, um, I don’t know.”

  
“Are you getting enough to eat?”

  
Castiel ducks his head, embarrassed now. “Well, I mean, I haven’t... I've been, um. I haven’t really had the money for a lot of groceries lately.” He says quietly.  
When he looks up again, Dean is watching him. He takes the rag and presses the clean side gently to Castiel's bite. “Well then, sounds like you need to stay for dinner.” He says finally.

  
Castiel blinks, confused. “I thought I was dinner.” He says, before realizing that it might be rude.

  
Dean laughs. “I still eat human food too.” He tells Castiel. “It's not necessary, but I like the taste of it.”

  
“Oh, okay.” Says Castiel, then, “You don't have to feed me, I can just go. The AVS will send someone else out.”

  
“Hey now! I like you, you seem like a nice guy. I bet your blood tastes just fine when you've got all your vitamins. I'd like to try and see things through.” Dean says, smiling. “What do you say?”

  
Castiel smiles back, heart lifting a little. “Okay.”  
  
Dean cooks baked chicken breast and steamed vegetables. While those things are cooking, he gets Castiel to help him make a salad. It's the least Castiel can do, really, considered he failed in the blood department.

  
“So, what do you do?” Dean wonders as he cuts carrots.

  
“I work in a bookstore.” Says Castiel, cubing a tomato.

  
“You like books?”

  
“Oh, I love books!” Castiel tells him. “I've got a, well, a very small library. It's just a couple of bookshelves really, but I get a new book when I can, when I have extra money. I have some very old copies of some classics that my grandmother left me when she died. Moby Dick, A Tree Grows In Brooklyn, O Pioneers.” He smiles at the thought of them.

  
Dean listens thoughtfully. “What's your favorite?”

  
“It's silly.”

  
“That's okay.” Says Dean.

  
Castiel stills his knife for a moment, lost in a memory. “I have this copy of A Hundred and One Dalmatians. I've had it my whole life, got it at a library sale when I was little. It's faded and... worn out, but it's my favorite. And it smells like comfort, like home.”

  
Dean smiles. “That's not silly at all. I wish I had a good story for my favorite.”

  
“What's your favorite?”

  
“Slaughterhouse 5.”

  
“I haven’t read it.” Castiel admits.

  
“You can borrow it if you want. I'll have to show you my library sometime.”

  
“I would like that.” Castiel says happily. He finishes cutting tomatoes and starts slicing cucumbers. “What is that you do?”

  
“Actually I own half of a restaurant chain. You know Benny's?”

  
Castiel almost slices his hand open. “You own Benny's?!”

  
Dean nods. “Half of it.”

  
“Ow wow.”

  
“Yep.”

  
“Then who's Benny?” Castiel asks.

  
“Friend of mine.” Dean answers. “We started it up together. He really runs them more than I do, I mostly just finance.”

  
“Wow.” Castiel says again. “That's intimidating.”

  
Dean laughs. “It was luck, mostly, and a lot of support from friends. A lot of businesses fail but... not ours, and I'm still not sure how we really pulled it off.”

  
“So, do you cook a lot?” Castiel wonders.

  
“Not professionally. I like to cook for myself, and sometimes friends, but I could never get the hang of doing it for the masses. Tried it for a while, worked as a line cook in a nice little Italian place in California.” He shivers. “Not for me. Took the joy right out of it. Benny though, he somehow manages to keep the love. He's an amazing cook.”

  
“You two are close?”

  
Dean blows out a breath noisily. “I've known him for a very very long time. We've been through some shit together. Yeah, we're close.”

  
“Is he a vampire as well?” Castiel asks.

  
“He is.” Dean tells him. “A little older than me.”

  
Castiel almost asks how old Dean is, but then changes his mind at the last minute.

  
They finish the salad then, and Dean caries the large glass bowl of it into the dining room and sets it out on the dark wood table.  
“Why don't you go ahead and have a seat.” Dean says. “I'll be right back with the chicken.”

  
Castiel sits, the chairs are sturdy, high backed things with velvet cushions and intricate carvings over all of the wood. Honestly, it's a little more what he expected from a vampire's home. The table is beautiful too; not too big, but not small either, big enough to hold probably six people comfortably. The legs of it curve down into ornate claws with long talons, like that of a dragon. Over the table is laid a black tablecloth, and a golden candelabra sits in the middle. It's by far the most extravagant room Castiel has seen so far, and it throws him a little. Just then though, Dean comes back in, carrying a tray of the chicken with vegetables and a bottle of red wine.

  
He serves Castiel himself, despite the man's protest, and pours them each a glass of the wine in tall crystal glasses.

  
At Castiel's first bite, he feels as if he's died and gone to heaven. The chicken is moist and flavorful, bursting with spices, the salad surprisingly tasty. The wine is sweet and rich. It's been a very long time since he's eaten this well, and he can't stop himself moaning around a mouthful of the food. When he comes back to himself, Dean is smirking at him.

  
“Enjoying yourself? Should I give you a moment alone?” He asks teasingly.

  
Castiel blushes furiously. “I'm sorry, you're just a very good cook. I don't know when the last time I had a meal this good was. And, you know, I usually don’t care for wine but this is very tasty.”

  
“Well, thank you. I can appreciate a man who enjoys his food.”

  
Castiel watches as Dean's eyes track his fork's path from the plate to his mouth with a strange expression on his face, even as the man eats his own food. They don't speak for a time, Castiel caught up in the meal, Dean content to let the man enjoy it. When they finish, Dean expertly sweeps up both of their dishes and disappears into the kitchen. Castiel follows him, and finds him already washing the dishes. He steps up next to the man and, finding a dish towel already laid out, begins to dry.

  
“You stop that!” Dean says, snatching the towel away from him. “You're a guest, go sit down.”

  
“You've made me supper and I haven’t done anything for you tonight, the least I can do is help with dishes.” Castiel grabs the towel back.

  
“You helped make the salad.” Dean reminds him.

  
“That hardly makes up for dinner and the fact that I failed at giving you any blood at all.”

  
“The dinner was out of the kindness of my heart.”

  
“Well, so is this.” Castiel tells him, and continues to dry dishes.

  
Dean makes a huffing sound, but says nothing more, and after a few minutes he seems to relax. He begins to hum after a while, a soft little tune that Castiel can't quite place, although he's almost certain he's heard it before. Together, they finish quickly, and as Castiel can't think of any more reasons he should be there, he excuses himself.

  
“It's getting late.” He says. “I'd better go.”

  
Dean nods. “Will you come back Friday night? We can try again.”

  
Castiel thinks, he doesn’t have anything to do this weekend. “Yes, I can come Friday.”

  
“Here,” Dean says, striding out into the hall. He picks up a slip of paper off of an end table that sits next to the kitchen doorway. “This is your check. If you can, you should use some of it to buy yourself some decent food.”

  
“Oh no, I can't take that!” Castiel protests. “I didn’t supply anything!”

  
Dean pushes the check at him anyway. “Think of it as an investment. If you get better food, your blood will taste better, and that's good for me.”

  
Castiel looks at him, he seems sincere. Slowly, nervously, he reaches out and takes the check. He glances down at the amount, and swallows hard. This is a lot of money, a lot of money for services he didn’t even render. But... he _will_ be able to pay his bills with this and have a significant amount left over for groceries. He takes a deep breath.

  
“Okay.” He says. “Okay, thank you.”

  
Dean smiles. “No problem. Just promise me you'll eat better?”

  
“Oh yes!” Castiel promises. “Absolutely!”

  
“Good. I'll see you Friday?”

  
“Yes, Friday.”

  
“Alright, see you then.”

  
Castiel feels almost dizzy as he walks down Dean's long drive to his rickety old Corolla, and he sits in the driver's seat a long time looking at the number on the check. It's more money than he's ever had in his hands. He lets out a shaky breath.

  
  
The next day, Castiel deposits the check and pays his bills. For the first time in years, the act doesn’t leave him feeling sick and afraid. This time, he feels excited. He has money _left over_! He has money left over. It's a wonderful, light feeling, completely strange and new. He barely worries about money the whole day. When he gets off work, he goes to the store and buys groceries. Enough groceries! He buys food that's actually good for him, instead of just what's cheap, feeling absolutely giddy by the time he gets to the register. The lady at the checkout looks at him like he's crazy, but he doesn’t care. On the way home he stops at the gas station and fills his car _all the way up_! It's an exciting day all around.

  
He even cooks dinner for himself, although it's a far cry from the meal Dean made. It's still good, and Castiel eats it while curled up on the couch with a book and his big mug filled with apple juice.

  
The next evening, Castiel receives a large package, labeled puzzlingly with the name of a company that he's never heard of. When he opens it he finds a dozen bottles of different vitamin supplements and a large cookbook entitled “How's Your Blood?” by Nan Baker. He reads the front flap and finds that the recipes inside are all supposed to make your blood taste better. At the very bottom of the box is a typed note that confirms Castiel's growing suspicions. It reads:

  
  
Castiel,  
I got your mailing address from the AVS, I hope you don’t mind. I just wanted to send you a few things I think would be helpful.  
Sincerely,  
Dean Winchester

  
  
It's a bit odd, but also a bit thoughtful, and Castiel admits that he wouldn’t mind trying out some of these recipes.

  
  
Friday night finds Castiel back in front of Dean's door, this time he wears sweater with a yellow zig-zag pattern. When Dean opens the door, wearing worn jeans and a loose Misfits t-shirt, his eyes dart quickly over Castiel.

  
“Nice sweater.” He says, stepping back to let Castiel inside.

  
Castiel isn’t sure if the compliment is genuine or if Dean is being sarcastic so he just says, “Thank you.” and follows him inside. Once he steps in, he's greeted by the mouthwatering smell of something cooking. His nose twitches, but he doesn’t want to assume he's invited to eat with Dean again, so he says nothing. Dean, thankfully, answers the question for him.

  
“I made dinner, would you rather eat before or after?”

  
Castiel is about to speak when his stomach growls loudly. Dean laughs and Castiel grins sheepishly.

  
“Now it is.” Dean says, leading him into the dining room.

  
They have steak, succulent, mouth watering steak. There's pasta too, with some sort of buttery sauce and chunks of steamed vegetables mixed in. There's cheesy asparagus, and peach pie for desert. They drink red wine again and, frankly, Castiel has a bit more than he should.

  
“Ugh,” Castiel says, leaning back in his chair. “I'm going to get fat. Are you trying to make me fat?”

  
Dean laughs again, and Castiel thinks that it's a lovely sound. “Just making sure you eat well, you could use a little fattening up anyway.” He rises and stars taking the dishes away.

  
Castiel gets up to help him. “It sounds like you're planning on eating me.”

  
“Aren’t I?” Dean says, setting the dishes into the sink. “You already know I bite.” He grins, and Castiel feels a shiver that has nothing to do with fear run down his spine.  
“Come on.” Dean says, leading Castiel into the living room. The lights are dim and there’s a candle burning on the coffee table. They sit down on the couch side-by-side and Dean grabs the remote.

  
“You wanna watch a movie?”

  
“Sure.” Says Castiel. “You're certainly going all out tonight.”

  
“It's not much, and a little foreplay never hurt anybody.” Dean says. His tongue flicks out to wet his bottom lip, and Castiel can't help but watch it.

  
Dean turns on The Fellowship of the Ring, and they settle in. Dean pours Castiel a little more wine, but not too much. After about ten minutes, Castiel can feel Dean's gaze, hot and insistent on his neck. He sets his wine glass down on the coffee table and then leans back, exposing his throat. It's only moments before he feels Dean's thumb sweeping over the vein thrumming there.

  
“You mind if I...?” He asks.

  
“Go ahead.” Castiel tells him.

  
Dean leans close, nose nudging at Castiel's soft flesh as he opens his mouth and bites down. This time, he takes a small, hesitant drink first. Almost immediately he makes a happy humming sound.

  
“Mmm, _that's_ better.” He mumbles into Castiel's throat.

  
He starts to suck harder then, one hand going to cup the other side of the man's throat. The pulling sensation that Castiel felt before is much stronger, curling in his stomach warmly. This time, in addition, there's also a hint of arousal spinning in his veins, because Dean is generous and very attractive and he smells of warm vanilla and cinnamon. He's moaning obscenely into Castiel's throat now too, obviously pleased with the taste. He's huffing and growling and pressing himself closer and closer against Castiel's side. After a while Castiel begins to get a little dizzy, but this feels so good, so intimate, that he doesn’t want it to stop. In any case, Dean begins to slow a few minutes later, his sucking turns lazy and unhurried. When he retracts his teeth, Castiel feels them slip free of his skin with a sting, but then Dean's tongue is laving soothingly over the bite and it doesn’t hurt so much.

  
Castiel feels lazy, open, calm, a little sated somehow. Drunk on the feeling of someone drinking from him. If he weren’t sporting a massive hard-on at the moment – covered mercifully by his long sweater – he'd say he felt like he just had an amazing orgasm. When he opens his eyes, Dean is looking at him, he's very close. His own eyes are hazy, half lidded, and dilated. He's got a speck of blood on his lower lip where his mouth is open just a little.

  
“I was right.” He breathes. “You taste fucking _amazing_.”

  
They sit there, just staring at each other in a half-drunk stupor, for several long minutes. Finally, Dean wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I'm gonna... get us some water.” He says, and stands.

  
Castiel takes the moment to adjust himself in his pants, so that it wont be obvious when he stands. He has to bite his lip to keep from moaning from the contact, but at least it's out of the way. Dean comes back with two glasses of water and a cookie, he sets the water on the coffee table and hands the cookie to Castiel. Dean sits close to him, letting the side of his hand brush Castiel's thigh, and they watch the rest of the movie in companionable silence. When it's over Dean gives Castiel another check with an almost obscene amount written on it.

  
“When can I see you again?” He wonders.

  
“Well I don't think you're supposed to give blood too often.” Castiel says thoughtfully. “Maybe a couple weeks? Would that be alright?”

  
Dean bites his bottom lip, thinking. “Alright.” He says finally. “Can I have your number? So we can, you know, schedule stuff and... stuff.”

  
“Yeah, sure.” Castiel pulls out his phone and they exchange numbers. “You can, um, call me or text me... anytime. If you need anything, or not, just whatever.”

  
Despite his obscure speech, Dean seems to catch on. He smiles. “Yeah? Yeah alright. Me too. Feel free.”

 

  
  
“So, this vampire makes you dinner?” Castiel's co-worker Meg asks on Monday.

  
Castiel nods. “He's very courteous.” He tells her, organizing the Romance section.

  
“And you guys watch movies and stuff?” She wonders, leaning against the shelf.

  
“Yes.” He affirms.

  
“Sounds like dates to me.” She says. “You guys done the dirty?”

  
Castiel drops the book he's about to slot into place. “Meg! I've only met the man twice! And besides that, it's a business transaction, nothing more.”

  
“Uhuh.” She says knowingly. “I bet he'd like a business transaction in your pants.”

  
Castiel frowns. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

  
She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Heed my words, Clarence, I’d bet my paycheck that that man wants a piece of your sweet ass.”

  
“Language.” Castiel chides.

  
“There's no one else in the whole store, dork.” She taps her scarlet nails on the top row of books. “So, would you do it?”

  
“Do what?”

  
“Sleep with him. If he wants into those slacks, you gonna let him?”

  
Castiel goes red, but he does think about it. He's attracted to Dean, there's no denying it. “Maybe.” He says after a while. “Dean is... very handsome, and generous, and I do enjoy his company.”

  
“Clarence, you slut! I wouldn’t have thought you’d have it in you!” Meg laughs.

  
“Meg!”

  
“Oh, I’m _just kidding_. No need to get your panties in a bunch.”

  
Castiel huffs, but Meg just laughs again and then the bell over the door chimes and she skips off to deal with customers. Castiel frowns to himself. Does Dean like him? He can't really tell. He puts the next book back on the shelf with slightly more force than necessary.

  
  
A few days later, Dean texts him.  
  
**[Received. From: Dean Winchester]**  
**Hey Cas, tried any of those recipes yet?**  
  
Castiel's fingertips tingle at the nickname.  
  
**[Sent. From: Castiel Novak]**  
**A couple. Didn’t turn out as well as yours though :(**  
  
**[Received. From: Dean Winchester]**  
**Well I’ve had a lot of practice. A _lot_ of practice. **  
  
**[Sent. From Castiel Novak]**  
**You must be good at a lot of things.**  
  
**[Received. From: Dean Winchester]**  
**Only the important things; cooking, sex, playing the banjo.**  
  
Castiel's breath hitches slightly. But, then, Dean generally does flirt a lot. He bites his lip.  
  
**[Sent. From: Castiel Novak]**  
**You can play banjo?**  
  
**[Received. From: Dean Winchester]**  
**Well a little, that was kind of a joke.**  
  
Then, a few seconds later, a second text comes through.  
  
**[Received. From: Dean Winchester]**  
**The other ones weren’t though.**  
  
And even Castiel, who misses a lot of cues, can see where this is going now. Well, two can play at this game.  
  
**[Sent. From: Castiel Novak]**  
**So you're good at sex?**  
  
**[Received. From: Dean Winchester]**  
**The best. Taught Casanova everything he knew.**  
  
**[Sent. From: Castiel Novak]**  
**Do you have anyone who can verify these claims?**  
  
**[Received. From: Dean Winchester]**  
**Well you're welcome to track down my exes but most of them are dead so I don't know how much luck you'll have.**  
  
Castiel snorts.  
  
**[Sent. From: Castiel Novak]**  
**So I’m supposed to just take your word for it?**  
  
**[Received. From: Dean Winchester]**  
**You're welcome to find out yourself ;)**  
  
**[Sent. From: Castiel Novak]**  
**Maybe I will, if only to expose you as the fraud you really are.**  
  
**[Received. From: Dean Winchester]**  
**Sure Cas, sure.**  
  
**[Sent. From: Castiel Novak]**  
**Anyway, I have to go to sleep now. Talk to you later.**  
  
**[Received. From: Dean Winchester]**  
**Goodnight, Cas.**

  
Castiel is anxious the rest of the week, not really sure what's going on with him and Dean, and not sure he wants to get his hopes up. He soothes his worry by buying some books with his extra cash, which actually does help get his mind off of things.

 

  
  
The next week, Castiel goes to Dean's again. He combs his hair back this time, and spritzes just a little bit of cologne on, he doesn’t want to smell bad. Right before he gets out of the car, he sends a text to Meg.

  
  
**[Sent. From: Castiel Novak]**  
**I'm seeing him tonight.**  
  
**[Received. From: Meg Masters]**  
**Good. You need to get laid.**  
  
**[Received. From: Meg Masters]**  
**Good luck.**  
  
Dean comes to the door in a t-shirt and jeans again, somehow managing to look absolutely ravishing in even something so casual.

  
“Lookin' good.” Dean tells him, flicking his gaze up and down Castiel's body. “You didn’t dress up just for me, didja?”

  
Castiel clears his throat, trying to will the blush to recede from his cheeks. “Oh, no. I, uh, this-this is how I always...” He trails off, because Dean is just leaning in the doorway smiling at him.

  
He chuckles. “Come on in.”

  
Dinner is slightly more awkward this time, if only because they both keep casting glances at each other over their food. They have seafood: oysters and lobster, which Castiel thinks might be aphrodisiacs but he's not really sure.

  
“So, how old _are_ you?” Castiel asks as they're putting away the dishes.

  
“You know, I’m actually not that old by vampire standards.” Dean tells him “I was born in 1871.”

  
“Wow. Oh wow. That's... not old?”

  
Dean smirks. “You know I _met_ Arthur Conan Doyle.”

  
Castiel freezes, he almost drops the plate he's carrying. “You didn’t.”

  
Dean nods. “I own a first edition Hound of the Baskervilles.”

  
“Oh my god.” Castiel says, through the strange buzzing that's suddenly filled his ears. “You. Have. What?”

  
Dean laughs and reaches over to take the plate out of Castiel's hand and put it in the sink. “You okay, buddy?”

  
“Can I... can I see it?” Castiel asks breathlessly.

  
“Sure. I've been meaning to show you my library anyway. Come on.” He leads Castiel toward the back of the house, into a large room with a high ceiling. All of Castiel's breath leaves him.

  
The library is wonderful, full of high shelves and the sweet smell of binding glue. Dean shows him a shelf to the left of the doorway.

  
“There you go.” He says.

  
Castiel steps close, he reaches out to stroke the spine of one. Then he realizes. “Oh my god, are these...”

  
“All first editions? Yes.”

  
Castiel covers his mouth with his hand. “This is amazing.” He breathes. “Oh my god.” He runs his fingers over the edges of them. “Oh my god.” He flaps one hand ineffectually toward his face, trying to cool himself off.

  
Behind him, Dean coughs. “Wow. This is, uh, really gettin' you goin', huh?”

  
“Understatement.” Says Castiel.

  
“I definitely should have shown you this sooner.” He moves closer, and his hand is on the small of Castiel's back, heavy and warm. “You know,” He says, very close to Castiel's ear. “You can borrow them. Any time.”

  
“Oh dear.”

  
Dean's hands slide to Castiel's hips. “There's a first edition Mody Dick in there.”

  
“Ahh...”

  
Dean's nose brushes Castiel's ear. “You like Walt Whitman? I have a first edition Leaves of Grass.”

  
Castiel whimpers, heat flooding his face. “I- um, I’ll be right back.” He stutters, practically running out of the room and sprinting to the bathroom. Once there, he splashes cold water on his face and tries to get a hold of himself. He takes a few deep breaths, then pulls out his phone.

  
  
**[Sent. From: Castiel Novak]**  
**He has an entire shelf of first editions...**  
  
**[Received. From: Meg Masters]**  
**You gonna ride that?**  
  
**[Sent. From: Castiel Novak]**  
**Probably**  
  
**[Sent. From: Castiel Novak]**  
**Yes**  
  
**[Sent. From: Castiel Novak]**  
**Does that make me a slut?**  
  
**[Received. From: Meg Masters]**  
**Babe, you are a grown man. Follow your heart. Or your dick. Whatever. Go rock that man's world.**  
  
**[Sent. From: Castiel Novak]**  
**Thanks**  
  
**[Received. From: Meg Masters]**  
**Be safe**  
  
When Castiel exits the bathroom, Dean is there, leaning against the opposite wall.

  
“You okay?” He wonders, pushing off. “Did I... overstep?”

  
“No, no no.” Castiel assures him. “I just, ah, needed to compose myself.”

  
“You know,” Dean says, stepping closer. “I've never met anyone who gets off talking about books before.”

  
Castiel can feel his already flushed face turning an even deeper shade of scarlet. “I just... I'm very passionate about books.”

  
Dean grins, his hand slides up to cup the side of Castiel's face. “I can see that.” He says. He leans even closer, a hairsbreadth away now. His lips are mere millimeters from Castiel's, and Castiel instinctively parts his lips a little, invitingly. “I think it's cute.” Dean breathes, and Castiel can taste the words on his lips.

  
“... you do?”

  
Dean nods once, and leans just a little closer. Their lips brush, just a feather-light touch, but it's enough to have Castiel's head spinning. When Dean moves back a hair, Castiel chases after his lips with his own and Dean darts back in to press another barely-there kiss to his parted lips.

  
“You're beautiful.” He murmurs against Castiel's mouth.

  
“Oh.” Castiel sighs. No one has ever called him beautiful before.

  
Dean places another kiss to Castiel's mouth, and another and another. It's not quite making out, because the kisses are dry and no one's hands are wandering (Dean's are cupping Castiel's face and Castiel's are fisted in the front of Dean's shirt), but it feels very intimate. Actually, it feels more intimate than a lot of sex Castiel has had, Dean kissing him slowly, dryly, turning his head this way and that to get different angles. The soft sound of lips on lips is loud in the quiet hallway, and it makes Castiel shiver.  
He doesn’t realize that they're moving at first, that Dean is guiding him slowly back to the living room, until they cross the threshold. Candles flicker invitingly in the dim light and Dean backs Castiel up to the couch.

  
They sit slowly, side by side, Castiel trying and failing to calm his nerves. Dean kisses him again, and he lets his hands roam down Dean's sides, feeling him. His muscles are prominent, rippling just below the surface, and when Castiel reaches the bottom hem of Dean's shirt he hooks his fingers under it and presses it slowly upward.  
Dean pulls back when he realizes what Castiel wants, and smilingly pulls his shirt up over his head and tosses it to the ground. His chest looks like its been carved from marble, and Castiel tentatively reaches out to touch. His hands trace up Dean's chest, over his abdomen, through sparse dark chest hair and when he brushes his thumb over Dean's nipple he's rewarded with a shiver. He does it again and again, tracing around it and over it with varying amounts of pressure until the small nub is tight and hard. Then, without much forethought, he leans down and takes it into his mouth. Dean groans above him, and his hands come up to fist in Castiel's hair.

  
Castiel works the nub gently with his tongue and teeth, pushing Dean backward to lean against the armrest. Dean goes easily, grinning and making himself comfortable. He spreads his legs a bit, situating them so that Castiel is in between them when he leans over Dean to kiss him again.

  
This time, the kisses aren't so chaste as before. Dean's tongue darts out taste Castiel, catching his bottom lip. Castiel opens for him, and then his tongue is everywhere, and Dean's hands are pushing his shirt up his back. Castiel breaks away and leans back on his heels to peel his now slightly sweet-damp shirt up and over his head. As soon as he tosses it to the side, Dean's fingers are tracing up his stomach, finding every ticklish and sensitive spot. He sits up halfway and nuzzles into Castiel's belly, pressing kisses just below his belly button. He looks up at Castiel, through long lashes.

  
“I think now is where I prove my excellence.” He says.

  
Castiel laughs. “Is it now?”

  
“Mmhmm.” Dean mumbles, mouthing around the top of Castiel's pants.

  
“Or you fail miserably and I laugh at you forever.”

  
Dean runs his thumb over Castiel's zipper. “Guess I’ll just have to bring my A game then.” He places a wet kiss to his hip. “Switch places with me.”

  
They switch, Castiel leaning against the arm rest and Dean hovering over him. As soon as they're situated, Dean leans down and pops the button on Castiel's pants. He brings the zipper down slowly, teasingly, and then he just leaves it. He goes back to kissing Castiel, keeping his hands up top, mostly in the man's hair. Castiel is hard, so hard, straining his jeans. He aches at the lack of contact, but Dean doesn’t touch him there. Instead, he kisses Castiel slowly, fucking his mouth with his tongue. Then he's at the corner of Castiel's mouth, his chin, his neck. At first, Castiel thinks Dean is going to bite him, but he doesn’t. He just kisses, nips, sucks. Only then does he reach down between them and slip his hands into Castiel's pants. Castiel can't help the groan that slips between his lips when the vampire wraps his cool hand around his cock and pulls it into the open air.

  
“Oh god.” He gasps when Dean begins to slowly work his hand up and down, and he grips Dean's shoulders tightly.

  
“You just relax.” Dean whispers. “I'm gonna take care of you.”

  
Castiel gasps, nods, and tries to relax. He fails miserably, because then Dean is sliding down his body and pulling Castiel's pants down his legs. His boxers go too, and he's completely naked. He lays there, exposed, while Dean's eyes rake over him. He looks for a while, and Castiel lets him, but then he's back down, sliding into the v of Castiel's legs. He leans forward the, and begins to ghost his lips over the man's hot length. Up and down he goes, feeling the soft skin. His tongue darts out and captures the pearly bead of pre-come glistening on crown, and Castiel lets one of his hands drift down into Dean's soft hair. Dean gazes up at him, through those lashes again, somehow looking completely innocent and at the same time like sin itself. It's the lips, Castiel thinks. Those beautiful lips. When those lips closer over the head of his cock, Castiel throws his head back and gasps. Then they're sliding the rest of the way, taking him all the way in. So wet, warm, perfect. There's no hint of teeth, or even fangs, just pressure, and the most perfect suction Castiel has ever experienced.

  
Dean, it seems, was not joking when he said that he was amazing at sex, because this surpasses every other blowjob Castiel has ever had by miles. They don't even compare. This is to blowjobs as mountains are to hills, oceans are to puddles, and Castiel has the sudden, devastating realization that he will probably never receive oral sex this good ever again. Dean has perfected his movements, the turning and bobbing of his head, and it's no time at all before he has Castiel at the brink. Castiel clenches his hands in Dean's hair, but Dean, awful person that he is, pulls off.

  
Castiel groans. “Oh god, don’t do this to me!” He moans.

  
Dean leans up and Castiel grasps at his shoulders desperately. “I want you to come with me inside you.” Dean whispers.

  
Castiel's digs his nails into the meat of Dean's back in an effort to keep himself from coming right then and there, just from those words whispered into his ear.  
“ _God_ ,” He moans. “ _Please_ , please fuck me!”

  
Dean's eyes go dark. He runs his thumb over Castiel's bottom lip. “Since you asked nicely.” He says. “Just sit your pretty ass here for a minute.” He says. He gives Castiel another lingering kiss, and then stands. “I'll be right back.”

  
He's only gone for about sixty seconds, but it feels like hours and Castiel is getting very impatient. When Dean comes back, he has a condom and a small bottle of clear lube. He pops the button on his jeans and shucks them slowly, along with his boxers, while Castiel watches. He slides back into the couch, naked and leaking, and slicks his fingers with the lube. He presses Castiel's legs up, so that they're bent closer to his body, and trails his hand down the man's thigh to stroke his thumb along the sensitive muscles of his hole. Castiel bites his lips as Dean's thumb begins to gently massage the muscle, not quite pushing in. When he finally does push in, Castiel hisses at the sensation.  
He works the first finger in slowly, massing Castiel's rim and inner walls, stretching him out until he easily takes a second finger. A third is longer coming, but once it's in Castiel feels so full and it's amazing. But then they're gone, and Castiel sits up to complain, only to see Dean slipping the condom over his erection, and slicking himself up with more lube.

  
“You ready?” He asks.

  
“Yes.” Castiel breathes.

  
Castiel leans back against the arm rest again, and Dean leans above him. He kisses Castiel again, taking the man's bottom lip in between his teeth as he presses in. Their twin moans are loud in the quiet of the house.

  
“Oh fuck.” Dean groans. “Oh fucking christ.” He starts to move, at first his thrusts are a little shaky, but he soon falls into a rhythm that works for both of them, his cock brushing Castiel's prostate every time he plunges back in. It's not long before Castiel is close again, and, judging by the way Dean is gasping above him, he's getting there too. They ride closer and closer, rushing toward climax like a river. Then, Dean leans his head down to Castiel's neck, and he bites. The pulling, dizzying wonderfulness pushes Castiel over the edge and he's coming and clinging to Dean for dear life. After a few more drinks, Dean comes too, stilling suddenly, thrusting himself to the hilt.

  
They lay like that for a while, sated and tired. Dean laps lazily at the blood that wells up in the bite, licks it where it tries to run down his chest. He's still inside Castiel, and is showing no signs of pulling out anytime soon.

  
In the back of his mind, Castiel had thought that Dean might kick him out after, send him on his merry way, but he doesn’t. He presses gentle kisses to Castiel's sweaty forehead.

  
“You wanna take a shower?” Dean asks after a while.

  
“No.” Castiel whines. “I just want to sleep.”

  
Dean hums in agreement, kisses him on the lips. “We're going to be so gross tomorrow if we don't clean off.”

  
“But I’m _tired_.”

  
Dean chuckles, leaning his forehead against Castiel's. “Well I’m going to take a shower, you're welcome to join me if you like.”

  
He starts to move then, slipping slowly out of Castiel, leaving his hole open, clenching around nothing.

  
Castiel sighs. “Ugh, _fine_. I'll take a stupid shower with you.”

  
Dean reaches out and takes his hand to lead him patiently toward the bathroom. The shower is enormous, easily fitting the two of them, plus there's a huge bathtub next to it that Castiel is going to try out if he ever gets the chance. Under the how shower spray, Castiel wakes up a little. Enough, at least, to enjoy Dean massaging soap into the globes of his ass. He does Castiel's shoulders too, his stomach, his cock. The latter gives a feeble twitch, but Castiel isn’t a teenager anymore and he can't get it up again quite that fast. Apparently vampires can though, and Castiel ends up leaning against the shower wall, letting Dean fuck into him hard and fast under the spray. He doesn’t use a condom this time, because Castiel is clean and Dean assures him that he is too. It kind of defeats the purpose of the shower, as it gets him even messier, but Dean very helpfully offers to help him clean himself out afterward, although he mostly just ends up fingering Castiel's hole, which is quite sore now.

  
When they finally finish their shower they wrap themselves in enormous, fluffy white towels and Dean drags him to his room where a four poster bed sits up against one wall.  
The covers are a bright, sunshiny yellow, and they're the softest thing Castiel has ever felt. He buries himself in them and he never, ever wants to come out. They curl up, and Castiel finds himself being... cuddled. It's surprising, somehow, that Dean likes to cuddle. Maybe it's the fact that he's a vampire, but he's not going to question it. He snuggles in close to Dean, and they kiss chastely for a while before Castiel falls asleep with his head on the other man's chest.

 

  
  
He wakes a few hours later, but his head is no longer on Dean's chest and when he reaches out, the bed is cool. He sits up and scans the room, but there's no one there and the light to the bathroom is off. He gets up and pads quietly out of the bedroom and into the hall. Now he can hear sounds coming from the living room. When he steps in, he sees it's the tv. Dean is sitting on the couch (not the one they fucked on, but a smaller, unsoiled couch off to the side), sipping on a beer and watching The Big Labowski.

  
“You know, I think this might be the best movie of all time.” Dean says without looking up. “And I have seen a _lot_ of movies.” He turns his head then, and looks at Castiel who is still blinking sleepily in the doorway.

  
“It is pretty good.” Castiel mumbles.

  
“Come sit with me.” Dean says, holding out his hand.

  
Castiel goes, and slots himself on the couch in front of Dean, so that they're spooning.

  
“I don't usually sleep this time of night.” Dean tells him.

  
Castiel nods sleepily and turns himself around so that he can nuzzle into Dean's chest. His eyes flutter shut and soon his breathing is long and sleep-slow. Dean brushes a wayward tuft of hair back from Castiel's face, smiling down at him.

  
“I don't usually fall this fast, you know.” He tells the sleeping man. “You're something special.”

  
Castiel snorts in his sleep and turns his head further into Dean's chest, smacking his lips.

  
“Yep, something special.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey friends my tumblr is [here](https://deanlightful.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
